Silver In Midnight
by Rose G
Summary: Theoden and Theodred watching a foal take it's first steps. The foal - Shadowfax, Lord of Horses. And watching them all, the one who would tame the colt. The story of Shadowfax the Great and Gandalf the White.


Silver in Midnight

Rose G

Disclaimer - All characters and settings are the property of Tolkien and I have made no money from using them. 

Dedicated to Ambrook Jack The Lad, my foal despite his temper, long fur and half Shetland blood. Worth more than Shadowfax to me. 

__

'He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword, nor the quiver, the glittering spear and the shield. And he swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage and courage and the man upon him shares in his all.'

~~~The Book of Job, describing a warhorse~~~ 

Theoden shook his son gently, a smile touching his face. _If all goes well, this will be the last night in which I ever have to treat him as a child. _'Theodred, wake up.' Harder this time, he shook his son's shoulder, noticing with amusement and sadness, the down that touched his son's face. _Only minutes before he becomes an adult. _

Eorl's heir sat up quickly, albeit bleary eyed and tousled. Approvingly, Theoden saw the way his son reached for his sword with one hand, even as he dressed. 'What is wrong, Father?'

'Nothing is wrong, else I would have left ere you were even awake. Lightfoot is foaling down, and she is carrying to my Narothal, last stallion of the Mearas. I told you when she was served that the foal would be yours. On it will the White Horse banner go to war until you grow old.'

Theodred remembered his father's promise only too well - the gift of a mearas had always marked the entry of Eorl's heir into adulthood, and he had often felt that Theoden had made him wait for too long a time. _My colt - my very own, to train and ride, to take into battle. My descendant of Frealof, Father of Horses. _

Hurrying, he followed his father down into the stables, too excited to care when the tiny figure of Eomer padded after him, anxious to be like his adopted brother. Normally, Theodred found his presence a trial, but tonight his thoughts were occupied. _Maybe he will be grey, like Frealof and Narothal, or maybe bright chestnut like Lightfoot. Valar let her have a colt, not a filly. _

The stables were empty, save for the stature of the prancing grey stallion and blonde rider with sword drawn, and the chestnut mare labouring in one stall. Except…Thedored's sword left his scabbard at the same second as Theoden's, although both of them were more used to fighting on horseback when the animal could carry them out of danger rather than using their own wits. Eomer laughed in innocent delight, still too young to understand.

'Who are you? Death is the penalty for disturbing the stables of the Mearas, as it has always been in the past, and especially as you disturb a mare foaling. Show yourself.'

Theodred advanced alongside side his father; hands becoming clammy with fear sweat; fear that the unknown stranger might harm the newborn foal. _How can it be that, until now I have never feared for anything other than myself? So defenceless he will be, so weak and new…_

Both men swore that the figure faded, vanishing into the shadows of Narothal's loosebox; yet in the twilight, they saw a foal staggering to its feet. The chestnut mare raised a sweat-darkened muzzle, whinnying to her master so that he might explain the miracle that had happened to her. For an endless second, King and Prince regarded the Lord of Horses.

'An adult now, Theodred my son. You have a horse now that all men will envy. Does he not shine with silver and have the look of the wind and the storm made flesh? May he bear you unfaltering to glory like that to which Frealof carried Eorl the Young.'

Theodred bowed his head to hide his eyes._ My colt, my silver colt. Look at him sniffing a foreleg, shaking as he stands but soon…a warhorse he will be. He is mine and now - I am a prince._

The voice that broke the silence came from the shadows. 'In that colt, one of the great steeds of the Elder Days has returned and none like him shall return again until the World is changed. Nahar himself was such a colt, such a horse bore Eorl the Young and such a stallion carried Feanor, Spirit of Fire and the name of him and his master became the same.' The speaker stepped forward.

'Mithrandir. Are you bringing ill news again, or do you come simply to meddle with the affairs of Rohan?' Theoden glared at Gandalf, but the eyes of his heirs did not leave the colt, who curvetted sideward and slipped onto his side.

'I do not come solely to bring ill news, Theoden; I bear news because I come only when there is need. But tonight, I came to see the colt for I and him are bound together in some way that even I do not understand.'

'You have never aided this country, Mithrandir even when bringing news. You are always ready to borrow a horse, and more likely to fonder the poor beast rather than ride him home and for that alone, I say that you would never have the colt even did he not belong to my son and Prince. Anyway, he will bear only the King of the Riddermark or his sons, for he is of the Mearas and understand the speech of all men.'

'You, Theoden should know me for what I am - One who walked in Valinor under the Two Trees and one who has seen Eru. I sat astride Nahar himself long ago, greatest of all horses. The colt will carry me.'

With surprising speed for a man so old, he stepped into the loosebox and spoke soft words to the sweating mare that neither man understood. Theodred felt anger clench his muscle, but no action could he take. _ Mithrandir harms no beast; he will care for the colt and yet, he is mine. By rights, I own him and …He shall not have him._

The old bent figure that held a power beyond that of kings turned to Theodred and answered his unspoken thought. 'The colt is yours by right, by tradition. Yet I claim him because I must in view of the day when White shall stand forth against Black fight for Middle Earth. A horse like him shall win the fight. A lesser one, gallop though it may unto death or fonder, will fail. And I name him so.'

Before Theodred could stop him, despite grasping at the wizard's arm, Gandalf laid a hand on the colt's arched neck. 'Shadowfax I name you, Fighter of Shadow, and may you ever come to me at need, allowing no man else to sit you. Son of Valinor, do you hear and understand?'

The colt bowed his head, then took stumbling steps forward until he stood alongside the Wizard, white muzzle pushed against the silky robe. Gandalf caressed his man and shoulders, humming softly. Theodred thought that his hear would break - he extended one hand to Shadowfax - _That name will be carried by him forever now; he has been named - _and was met with pulled back lips. 'Mithrandir, why did you do that?'

'Because I must. No other horse on Middle Earth will equal what he will become - I must have him, and I can take him over Sea in the End, so that his speed and courage shall never wane or face old age. I apologise to you though.'

He turned and walked down the stony track, away from Edoras, leaving father and son to stare at the silver colt and golden mare in the midnight black. Shadowfax seemed to glow almost, a horse…_He is not a horse…Mithrandir has made him much more than that and yet… he is so much less to me now… Lord of Horses that I cannot ride, my inheritnce taken. Shall I ever now become King of Rohan?_


End file.
